


The Stone

by JustCrushALot



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCrushALot/pseuds/JustCrushALot
Summary: It's impossible to expect what things you may find shimmering at the bottom of a stream when you're a child. The key to life? To all truth? To the future? Or, maybe it's just a stone.Either way, she's an adult now and Christen just really needs Tobin to marry her. Right away.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	The Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freshtilapia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshtilapia/gifts).



> Happy birthday, freshtilapia! 
> 
> Fresh told me if I wanted to write her a story for her birthday, she'd want something with a Neil Gaiman vibe. This is certainly no Neil Gaiman story, but hopefully it has enough of that spirit to pass as a decent gift.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5”

She counts as she walks. 

“45, 46, 47, 48, 49”

She hears a car honk just before she steps into a crosswalk, but she refuses to lose count. 

“49, 49, 49.” 

She’s sure to keep her stride at an exact length; it’s a precious indicator. 

“It’s 2644 steps between my door and yours!” She asserts, definitively, before Tobin has even fully opened the door.

☆★

She first found the stone just outside of town. 

It was an uncharacteristically mild July day, but she and her sisters couldn’t resist the pull of cool water and sunshine. They’d carefully climbed through barbed wire, cautious not to tear their clothes or skin again, to find themselves on the path out of town toward the stream. 

They’d taken the path almost every day since June. Despite how difficult it was to get to, it was a path nearly everyone in town knew—even if some could never find it—and it grew wider each day with wear. It was the kind of path where you could find nearly every type of person: a lonely man with a fishing pole and a pocket-sized tackle box, teens with flasks of whiskey hiding themselves behind trees, children searching for meaning in their summer. What you would never find, however, were families or married couples or widowers. The path was reserved for those whose lives were unresolved—those who still had much more to learn in some way. So, it was the kind of place you could come with your siblings, neighbors, and lovers, but it was not a place anyone thought to return to when they wanted to propose or marry or walk with their children. 

The sisters, in their early to mid twenties, felt almost middle-aged: their childhood felt firmly behind them, despite their age, but they were uncertain about what was next. Still, they were sure, in their souls, that the stream was the place to figure it out. 

★☆

“Well, hello to you too, baby.” Tobin’s voice is smooth and joyful as she smiles and pulls Christen in for a kiss. 

“2644,” Christen repeats, after allowing only a short, chaste kiss.

“2644,” Tobin replied with a nod and a stern face, feigning seriousness. 

“Babe?”

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?”

☆★

About a quarter mile up the stream, the water pooled just above a small cascade. It was the perfect place to swim: not too deep to worry about what lurked below, but dark enough that nobody could really make out your shape beneath the surface. It let them have a little privacy, despite being in their underwear in the middle of the woods. 

The day was peaceful—the kind where splashing and giggling seemed unwarranted. On the other hand, talking in-depth about anything specific seemed far too serious. So instead they just floated, never touching one another, breaking the silence only to mention things in their environment—a crow, staring at them like it recognized them; the faint scent of juniper drifting in on a breeze that must have carried it for miles; the way their skin seemed never to grow pruny with hydration, even in all of the hours they’d spent there. 

Christen looked down at her hands under the water and saw, between them, a faint glow at the bottom of the pool. She took a deep breath and dove under, keeping her eyes open and following a glowing light as she descended the 8 or so feet to the deepest part of the pool. She grabbed the source of the light, finding it to be a stone, whose glow seemed to dissipate immediately into Christen’s skin. It spread thin across her body, like a small layer of lacquer, so thin it was almost imperceptible. 

When she surfaced, she was met with two pairs of questioning eyes. She held the stone up above the water. “I saw this weird glow down there so I wanted to check it out.” She held it above the surface and noticed the small flecks of reflective matter—something akin to pyrite. Surely the reason it seemed to glow. Her sisters inspected the stone but found it unremarkable, poking fun at Christen for diving down and finding fool’s gold. Still, Christen decided she should keep it—placing it atop her clothes on the bank of the stream and carrying it home later. 

★☆

“Will I… marry you?” Tobin asks, cocking her eyebrow.

“Yes, will you marry me?” 

“Chris, is this because there are too many steps between your front door and mine?”

“Well yes. And—”

“And what?”

“Nothing, I— I just want to marry you. Soon. Immediately. We can have a license and a court date in two days time, and then you can move 2644 steps closer to me.”

Tobin chuckles, eyes seeming to search Christen’s face for her meaning or for her to say she’s just joking. Christen stays still under her gaze, face unmoving. 

☆★

It wasn’t long before people around town started noticing Christen’s glow. “There’s just something radiant about her,” they’d say. “She lights up every room she’s in.” 

She didn’t like the attention, and did her best to shirk it. Until one day, senior year, Kennedy Thompson transferred into her school. 

Kennedy was cool in a way that felt less ephemeral than it did for anyone else. Her eyes seemed to hold stories and worlds unexplored—like she’d seen and understood the universe for what it was and then chosen to come to this town, and this school, and sit right in front of Christen in English class. 

Of course, Christen knew, logically, that the Thompsons moved to town for her mother’s job. Still, when Kennedy would turn around and look her in the eyes, Christen couldn’t help but wonder if she’d actually been the one to make the decision; couldn’t help but think the whole of existence might revolve around Kennedy’s whims. 

And then, under the bleachers, behind the concession stand, Kennedy told Christen, “It’s amazing, you’re so beautiful that it’s almost like you shimmer in the dark,” and Christen decided all of the unwanted attention was worth it. 

★☆

“Chris, you know I want to marry you. I definitely want to spend my whole life with you. but I don’t think this is ever the way I thought we’d— you’d propose to me— or I’d propose to you— and I thought you always wanted a big wedding and a fancy dress and toasts from everyone we love.”

“I just want you, Tobin. Forever. I don’t want to lose you.” Christen chews on her bottom lip before adding. “Please?”

“Chris, you’re not going to lose me—why do you think you’d lose me?” Tobin asks, pulling Christen in between her arms and holding her tightly, as though she is trying to imbue the moment with comfort and calm. 

Christen lets herself lean into Tobin’s embrace. Still, her tears fall against Tobin’s shoulder. “Please?” she begs, voice cracking. 

☆★

Kennedy Thompson proposed to Christen Press four years later. She did it on a ferry boat heading to an island off the coast. She said words so sweet, they felt like shelter and carried into her bones like a whisper.

They were married in a small ceremony, with just a few friends present, 2 months later. Both sets of their parents were too prideful to attend, but both sent gifts made of silver. 

★☆

Christen’s body starts to shake and Tobin pulls her inside, leading her down to the couch. 

“Christen?” She asks, leaning back.

“Tobin, please just say yes. Please. I haven’t let myself love anyone in years and I let myself love you— perfect, faithful, beautiful you. And now I can’t lose you. Please!” She crumples into Tobin’s lap. 

“Shh, Chris— shh, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But—”

“Shh. I’m right here with you. Can you feel me? Do you know I’m here? I’m not going anywhere.” 

Christen lets herself be overwhelmed by the comfort of Tobin’s arms.

☆★

If Kennedy Thompson had been quietly beautiful before she married Christen, she was positively stunning now. Where she once earned a few prolonged glances from those who noticed her, she would now force pauses in conversation that quieted the whole room when she entered. 

In the darkness of their bedroom, they could still make out small shifts in each other’s expressions. And Christen felt a nagging loneliness, one that she hadn’t even realized was there, abate. 

They spent weekends making pancakes and snuggled up in bed. They took walks and watched sunsets and found a way to ignore the stares together—or at least Christen thought. 

For some people, found-beauty humbles them. It makes them retreat into themselves a bit. Still, they learn to use it—to force the hands of the ruling classes—only when it will benefit others over themselves. 

For others, it stirs demons and monsters filled with a kind of quiet malice that makes them appear as self-possession. _Putting yourself first. Self-care. Making sure your oxygen mask is on before anyone else’s._ It all sounds good on paper. It’s the needed permission to stop belittling oneself and encouragement to take up space in a world that so shrinks you. Still, the sentiment feeds the vanity of narcissists and enables the self-interest of those lacking empathy. It’s a difference that hinges on a single intricacy of character. A sort of switch. 

That switch was flipped in different directions for Christen Press and Kennedy Thompson. No amount of love could make them match.

Kennedy tells Christen she’s pregnant on a cold winter evening after dinner. That she is pregnant is not, of course, the issue. It is how she came to be pregnant, were she truly faithful to Christen.

Christen collapses to her knees at the weight of the admission and feels the words tear the lining of her stomach as they are spoken with insincere remorse.

She’s packing her things a week later, while Kennedy is off with her newfound love, when she finds the stone again. She runs her finger across it, longing wistfully for the moments of her youth. It sparkles and just for a moment Christen thinks she reads something in the sparkles. Her brain registers the words: “Lightning, 18 days,” but she never actually sees it. 

★☆

She wakes in the haze of dusk on Tobin’s couch. She must have cried herself to sleep. The air is filled with the scent of butter and garlic and she can hear Tobin cooking in the kitchen. She stands up, fully feeling the age of her bones as she stumbles toward the kitchen, eventually gaining her footing. 

Tobin smiles at her genuinely as she continues to turn vegetables in a saute pan. Christen wraps her arms around Tobin’s waist and kisses her between her shoulder blades. “I love you,” she mumbles into her skin, through the barrier of a soft cotton t-shirt. 

Tobin drops the spoon and spins around, wrapping Christen in an embrace that pulls her head into Tobin’s chest. “I love you too, babe.”

They pull apart slightly and Christen looks into Tobin’s eyes, hoping she can see in them what she longs to see. What she needs to see. What she must see.

Tobin’s eyes search hers before she adds, “I’ve been thinking…”

Christen nods, unsure whether she wants to hear the words that come next.

“About the marriage thing…”

“Tobin, listen, I just—” Christen starts.

Tobin interrupts her, “I was thinking I would spend a thousand lifetimes with you and that I really don’t care when we officially start doing that. If you really want to get married in two days—” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “even though it’s not what I always imagined—we can.”

☆★

Kennedy’s death destroys Christen even worse than her infidelity did. 

She lays in her childhood bed and sobs as shadows from the sun climb the walls and then sink down them for days on end. Her parents force her to eat some soup after three days and she becomes certain she’ll never be able to taste anything again.

She cuts out the article in the newspaper: _Local Woman and Man Die in Lightning Strike._ She folds it carefully and places it in a shoebox with the stone and her wedding ring. She shoves it under the bed next to dozens of other shoeboxes, hoping nobody will find it. 

★☆

“Tobin, there’s something I need to tell you.” Christen says, staring at the ceiling, the morning of their wedding two days later. Both of their parents have come to town with all of their siblings.

“Of course, baby, tell me anything.” Tobin says rolling over and placing a kiss on Christen’s cheek. 

“Okay, but I want to warn you, if you want to leave after this, I’ll understand, but I really don’t want to lose you and I pray you’ll stay.”

Tobin pulls back slightly, propping herself up on her elbow. “Okayyy,” she responds, almost questioning. Christen can feel Tobin’s gaze like fire against her skin. But it’s not the kind of fire she feels when they’re desperate for one another. It’s more like she’s being burned at the stake. 

☆★

She thinks she’ll never love again. Still, opportunities come. As the years start to pass, the pain of Kennedy haunts her less and less. And she is beautiful as ever. Brilliant and incandescent. Her friends joke about wanting her anti-aging routine. How can she still look 22 as a 32 year old? 

It mostly annoys her—the fact that they check her ID at every bar, sometimes even at the movies. And her co-workers don’t seem to take her as seriously as they do the men her age. Still, she feels lucky for it all when she meets Molly Jackson. 

Molly is an interior designer and wine aficionado. She’s beautiful in an understated way. She makes Christen laugh until she cries and kisses her like spring rain on a dried-out flower. And she’s more than a lover, Molly is her best friend. She listens to Christen’s secrets and holds her close when she’s scared. They listen to the radio together and Molly gives her fashion advice. Molly doesn’t believe in marriage—it being a patriarchal institution and all. Christen is honestly relieved. She knows she can’t do it again—not with the scars it brought last time. 

She’s content to spend life with Molly anyway. Taking walks in the park and kissing in the garden. 

She decides she should sell her ring—the one from Kennedy—when Molly needs some cash for a business investment. As she takes the ring out of the box, she sees the stone. It glistens, luminous for an imperceptible moment. She feels it in her heart, even if her brain doesn’t register it: “74 days, aneurysm.”

★☆

“Chris? What is it?” Tobin asks.

“I— Tobin, I’m older than I said I was.”

“What, you’re like in your 30’s?”

“Sort of. But— Um— add— fifty or so years.”

☆★

After Molly is Brooke, then Natasha, then, even though she fights like hell not to let herself fall in any kind of love, Rosa. Eventually she puts her birth certificate in the box with the newspaper clippings. It seems right that the paper marking her birth should sit with those marking the death of those she's loved. 

She starts to count things: Steps, cracks, rivets. It helps her feel better. It lets her believe the world can be measured. It lets her think there is an end to every sum.

★☆

“So you’re telling me this stone said I’m going to die tomorrow if I don’t marry you? And that’s why you want to marry me?”

“No, it didn’t say you were going to die if you didn’t marry me. It just— it seems to protect the people related to me. From death— from aging. I’ve tried to get rid of it, but I just can’t. It always comes back and it is always right about the future. I just— I can’t lose you, Tobin. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

Tobin looks at her skeptically as she thumbs through the newspaper clippings and runs her finger across the lettering on the birth certificate.

She huffs and rubs the bridge of her nose, “What if I just… avoided cars? You said it’s a car accident?” 

“Tobin, it’s never been wrong. Please.”

Tobin stands up, “Chris, I’m sorry, this is just a lot. You’re telling me my two choices right now are to live forever or to die tomorrow?”

Christen nods, eyes cast downward.

“Chris, do you— are you not lonely, living forever? Watching everyone else go on without you?”

“I don’t know if it’s really for— really forever,” she whispers softly, her own tone betraying deceit. The lie she’s told herself over and over dying before it can register in her own brain. “You… said you’d spend a thousand lifetimes with me.”

Tobin’s sigh is profound. They sit in silence for a long moment. Christen can’t find any words to say.

Tobin takes Christen’s hand and kisses the back. “Okay. Lets get married.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


★☆☆★

Elenor is gleaming and vibrant when she’s born. Her eyes are gray-green just like her mother’s, but they have brown flecks throughout. As if some of her other mother’s spirit sits just behind her eyes. 

She’s 11 when she finds the stone under her mother’s bed. 

She’s a young-looking 15 when she finds the path to the stream. She swims there every day, all summer, hands pruning and laughing with her friends. 

She brings the stone with her one day, a strange and overwhelming impulse to do so striking her just before she leaves the house. 

Her best friend pushes her into the water and the stone slips from her pocket. She swims submerges herself over and over, trying to find it. 

She never does. 

And nobody notices that the water stops wrinkling their hands when they’re swimming in the stream. But Tobin and Christen are grateful, if a little mournful, when time starts to wrinkle theirs.

  
  


☆★★☆

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Here_to_read_1818 for reading this over and providing feedback!


End file.
